


The Brazil Affair

by ohmachete



Series: The Del Floria Affairs [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Awkward Dates, Espionage, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Kidnapping, M/M, Mission Fic, Pre-Relationship, Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:12:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6376162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmachete/pseuds/ohmachete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fledgling trio on assignment in Brazil hunting down more of Vinciguerra's associates. Naturally, everybody is still finding their footing when it comes to their new arrangement as a unit of U.N.C.L.E. Mishaps and misunderstandings are soon to follow.<br/>-----------<br/>A screenplay format fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prep Day

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Florianópolis, Santa Catarina, Brazil. 
> 
> Hugo Aizenrita, formerly Hugo Herzenritter, has been recently identified in this city. Herzenritter is an ex gestapo agent believed to be involved in the escape of up to dozens of high ranking officials of the Nazi party back between 1944 and 1947. A number of these people Herzenritter allegedly had helped are due to be tried for various crimes committed during the war. We believe that Herzenritter is key to finding the locations of these targets.
> 
> Your flight is due to arrive early in the morning, please take this day in preparation for the assignment at hand.

FLORIANOPOLIS, BRAZIL. AUGUST 1963

It's a beautiful day in Florianopolis. Bronze bikini clad women sway their hips down their way to the beach. Spirited boys hold down their panama hats as they buzz down the street on candy colored scooters. A quaint little hotel sits on a busy corner sandwiched between a day cafe and a night lounge. The Girl from Ipanema chirps on a stationed radio near the door, it's sultry tunes filtering into a row of open windows on the second floor. There is a KNOCK on the door. 

GABY'S HOTEL ROOM - MIDDAY

NAPOLEON SOLO pokes his shoulder through the door to lean through, a hand raised at attention to shield his eyes. The sound of a cabinet SLAMMING shut causes one of his eyebrows to creep upward. 

NAPOLEON

Am I interrupting?

GABY TELLER is frozen with her her hands pressed up against the double doors of her wardrobe, her shoulders wound upward in a hunch as if she's been caught red-handed. She turns around to face Napoleon, adjusting the white linen beach throw that billows down her small frame. If there is any admission of guilt, she hides it well with frivolous nonchalance. Her hand lands on her cocked hip, pardoning the intrusion. 

GABY

(coolly)

Not at all. What is it?

Napoleon cautiously splits his finger wall to peek through them. Once he's noted her decency, his hand drops away entirely. 

NAPOLEON

Well, we're a day ahead of schedule. I fully intend on making the most of it. The question is, will you be joining me?

GABY

Where?

NAPOLEON

I'll give you a hint: you're already dressed the part.

Gaby looks down at herself in consideration, her hand drops from her hip in a shrug. She turns on heel to rifle through the pile that's sprung from her suitcase. 

GABY

Perfect, I just need a hat.

NAPOLEON

(already retreating back into his room, he waves a pointed hand back at her)

The striped Dior.

Gaby finds the hat from the pile. Turning it over in her hands, she turns briefly over her shoulder to the open empty doorway. 

GABY

What about Illya?

Meanwhile, Napoleon is gathering a series of items laid out neatly across his bed: sunglasses, bill fold, a key ring, and a striped cabana jacket. He doesn't look up from his gathering. 

NAPOLEON

You know Peril, he's probably off doing extra credit.

GABY

(frowns)

Sounds about right.

Napoleon reappears in the doorway to Gaby's suite wearing the jacket in a pair of tailored shorts. He lounges where he's leaned, one leg crossed loosely behind the other as he tucks a pair of sunglasses into the curve of his shirt. Gaby continues to preen at her hair so that it falls nicely beneath her hat. 

NAPOLEON

I almost forgot, I found something you'll enjoy.

GABY

(eyeing him suspiciously through the mirror)

_Something?_

NAPOLEON

I like it. It's whimsical.

Her eyebrows furrow briefly. She turns over to find Napoleon offering up a key ring dangled over one finger. He jingles it teasingly. 

GABY

(looking unimpressed)

You found a car key?

Napoleon's face melts down into a pout. 

NAPOLEON

Yes, on the floor of the lobby of all places. While I dutifully returned them, he wondered if the parking he secured for the week he would be in Tokyo would be safe. After asking where he had parked, I assured him it would, absolutely, be of no danger from common thieves.

Gaby's eyes roll, approaching him with clear disapproval of his methods. As she stops, her gaze falls to the set of keys. She considers them a moment before decidedly snatching them out of his hand. 

GABY

Good thing you're no common thief.

NAPOLEON

(blase)

_Obviously_

She points a finger at him, airing her obvious disapproval of the matter as she exits the room. 

GABY

Only for today.

Napoleon is anything but smug, placing a hand over his chest in acknowledgement before following suit. 

NAPOLEON

But of course.

THE STREET

Gaby and Napoleon stand before a cherry red Fiat 1500 Cabriolet parked on the side of the road. It's practically new, not a spot or scratch to be seen. Napoleon looks ultimately pleased with himself before it while his partner deliberates. At last, Gaby releases a conflicted sigh. 

GABY

It'd be a shame to leave her parked on the side of the road for so long.

Napoleon wastes no time, rounding about the other side of the vehicle to let himself in. 

NAPOLEON

My thoughts exactly.

He drops his bag into the back and settles himself into the passenger seat. Gaby follows suit, setting the key in the ignition as Napoleon leans over to fiddle with the radio until he finds something he likes. 

NAPOLEON

Now, if you wouldn't mind, drive until you see water and sun bathing. Any direction will do.

GABY

(dryly)

Maybe towards the sea

NAPOLEON

That's why you're the driver and I'm the pretty face.

Gaby fixes her own sunglasses on her face, clearly attempting to resist the urge to roll her eyes out of her head. Napoleon grins brightly as he fixes his sunglasses on and reclines in his seat for the journey. 

GALHETA BEACH

Gaby and Napoleon step up to the outskirts of a bustling beach. The air is full of laughter, occasionally drowned out by the crash of blue waves. Nearly half the city must be taking advantage of the beautiful day. The sand is littered with beach goers playing and lounging in the sand. Gaby seems enamored by the sight, she is absolutely beaming. Napoleon's head turns distractedly by two beautiful women giggling as they pass. He tilts his sunglasses down to admire them in their wake. 

NAPOLEON

(distractedly)

How was the beach scene in East Berlin?

GABY

It was more like drinking around a crate while we tried to latch onto West Berlin's broadcasts of the Beach Boys.

She stops before the sand to tease off her sandals, before she advances any further she looks over to see Napoleon not paying attention at all. 

GABY

You coming?

NAPOLEON

Eventually...

She wastes no time waiting for him, taking off into the hot sand. Napoleon's glance falls back on her once or twice before following after her. He catches up in a matter of ease. His hand sticks neatly in one pocket, head scanning the crowds with an air of nonchalance. 

GABY

How much beach fun can you fit in a day?

NAPOLEON

Have you ever heard of such a thing as a parasail?

Gaby stops with Napoleon at her side, her head raises a hair as she squints out into the water as if trying to find the answer lying out in the middle of it. 

GABY

Do they have that here?

Napoleon's mouth opens, but he comes up empty. It's a matter of trying to find the right words. 

NAPOLEON

I still have contact with a few f--riends from my service. As far as I'm aware, he's been servicing the greater southern Brazil area for a few years now. Hook it up to a truck or a boat, it's almost as exhilarating as carrying a Monet under your arm.

Gaby tilts her head in consideration, turning to address him curiously. 

GABY

Would this be before or after hitting up that bar you've been eyeing?

NAPOLEON

After, naturally.

Her lips purse, considering her options carefully in a beat of silence. 

GABY

I'm in.

He half turns towards her, head tilting opposite to enhance a smarmy gaze. 

NAPOLEON

(musingly)

Are you sure your fragile constitution can take it?

Gaby scoffs. 

GABY

Better yet, do you think you can keep up?

Napoleon begins backing away towards the cabana on the beach. And like she's been tethered, Gaby steps to follow with her arms crossed to her chest. 

NAPOLEON

I think the last person that asked me that came to regret it.

GABY

You've obviously not spent a lot of time drinking with women from East Berlin. 

NAPOLEON

(turning around to walk with her)

No, but so long as they don't crush tranquilizers into my drink, they're already more preferable than Italian women.

CABANA AT THE BEACH

A small seven seat bar sits in the sand covered by a straw roof and lit with red twinkle lights. It's not an extravagant set up, but clearly favorable to the locals. A bartender fixes a few lingering patrons drinks as Gaby and Napoleon approach. Napoleon leans against the edge of the bar and lifts his hand for the Bartender's attention. 

NAPOLEON

A tequila recomendado. Por favor.

Gaby hovers behind him as he turns with two small glasses in hand. Napoleon passes her one and holds his up. 

GABY

Well, what shall we drink to?

NAPOLEON

To poor impulse control.

(he pauses thoughtfully)

And capitalism.

The two of them knock back their drinks. Gaby reels herself from a spectrum of faces. 

GABY

(straining)

I have to say, not impressed.

NAPOLEON

That's because you're accustomed to a lack of finesse. It's sad, really. Good thing you have me to show you the light.

GABY

(sneers)

You're doing a great job so far.

Napoleon looks nothing less than charmed, retrieves the bottle from the bar. He turns again to refill their glasses. 

NAPOLEON

There is a phenomenon called, "acquiring a taste". Looking less and less convinced, Gaby lifts her filled glass up again. 

GABY

Drink up.

Napoleon's not sure whether he's charmed or concerned, either way he taps his glass to hers. 

NAPOLEON

Your funeral.

They both down their shots. And then another. Adding to a small tower they've both accrued across the hour. Gaby slams down her glass at the bar with a refreshed sigh, determined to best Napoleon at his own game. 

GABY

(lightly)

I'm perfectly fine. I could dance.

NAPOLEON

(looking unconvinced)

Do you want to try walking a line first?

GABY

Oh by all means, draw me a line in the sand and I'll walk in _chaînés_.

Napoleon narrows his eyes at her, not at all convinced of her proclaimed finesse. He takes the bottle, now left on the bar for them to partake, and refills another round of shots to take with him as he moves to draw a line in the sand for her across to the other end of the bar. 

Gaby stands at the other end, looking all too pleased with herself. She stretches her arms from side to side before turning sharply and landing one toe on the line. She twists with her leg in place and carefully twirls herself over to his side. Napoleon's head tilts, considerably impressed with her constitution until she rolls her ankle and lists into a drunkard stumble. He leans forward to catch her by the elbow before she inevitably eats sand. Without missing a beat, she rights herself and takes back her elbow to display her hands outward like she's stuck the hardest landing. Her sunglasses sit haphazardly on her nose, but she is proud as the day is bright. 

GABY

That's how you do it.

NAPOLEON

(humms while divvying out their glasses)

I'm not so sure you did.

Gaby raises her eyebrows in a challenged glare, she adjusts an oncoming sway by leaning in to step around him to set her glass down. 

GABY

I'd like to see you do better.

NAPOLEON

Oh, I'm drunk to a stupor.

He finishes his shot with an ounce of fluid grace, leaning to stack his glass onto hers. Gaby has sunken an elbow on the edge of the bar beside it, looking up at him with a bleary, but calculated stare. At last, her chin tilts up. 

GABY

Was promised parasailing and I don't want to hear your complaints, you're going to carry me there because I said so. 

Napoleon sucks in a breath, he lands a pause as if to consider such difficult terms. 

NAPOLEON

Your terms seem reasonable.

(he raises a finger to her, there is more)

I will concede to carrying you if you concede that it means you're losing. 

Gaby lifts herself from the bar, waggling her finger at him in a mirrored manner. 

GABY

No no. There's a difference between wanting to be carried and needing to be.

NAPOLEON

The only difference is what you are willing to do to fulfill that want.

GABY

(she straightens, looking mildly offended)

Nothing, if you're going to play dirty.

Although she has no idea where she's going, Gaby promptly swivels on one foot and starts heading towards the shore. Napoleon, looking more than pleased with himself sticks his hands in his pockets to follow. 

NAPOLEON

I find that playing dirty is often the best way to fulfill wants.

Gaby's steps are small and ineffectively slow through the sand, Napoleon catches up quickly to her to sweep a hand around her middle to curtail her from getting away. 

NAPOLEON

(in a matter of fact)

Besides that, it's not my fault your wants and needs aren't being met.

Gaby slips away from his grip, turning to him looking aggressively annoyed. Napoleon simply bends down and motions for her to climb onto his back. 

GABY

(scoffs)

Are you offering or am I conceding?

NAPOLEON

A little of both should do the trick.

Gaby looks away, as if pondering her options of accepting or possibly hurting him. He, however, remains perched and ready to receive her. Her lips press into a line, not needing to argue further, steps forward to accept his offer. 

HOTEL ENTRY - DUSK

The excitement of the day has simmered down. Couples saunter off down the street to open patios as the sun lights the sky in hues of pink and purple. ILLYA KURYAKIN leans against the pillar to the entrance of the hotel. He is dressed smart in a thin black turtleneck and blazer paired with smart fitting chino shorts. His golden hair is combed neatly to the side, head bent down in a local newspaper. 

Gaby slowly saunters up the stairs leading up to the hotel. She looks visibly exhausted, hair wild and curly from drying in the sun. Her shoes are in one hand. She spots Illya's shoes first, stopping a few steps beneath him to look up. Illya's newspaper lowers, concern wearing his face like an old glove. His lips press into a fine line at the sight of her, he seems upset but not outwardly accusatory. 

ILLYA

You're drunk.

Gaby lifts her arm to the side in a matter-of-fact, stepping to the side to walk up around him. 

GABY

I'm in Brazil.

Illya turns to follow her stumble, his hand slightly raised in case she loses her balance. It's unsure if he more concerned or irritable. 

ILLYA

I got two tickets to a movie.

Gaby stops two steps ahead, swerving around to address him and hold her ground. 

GABY

You disappeared in the morning. Were you expecting me to wait for you?

ILLYA

(as he folds his newspaper, attempting not to sound deprecating)

I was setting up for mission. When I returned, you both were gone.

Gaby frowns, her hands dropping to her sides in increasing frustration. She stares at him for what feels like a long while, unsure of what to say. It's easier than owning up to any guilt. She swerves again to head upstairs. 

GABY

This is ridiculous, I did nothing wrong.

Illya's irritation drains from his face. He frowns, scrambling up to catch her arm gently before she disappears inside. Gaby freezes, conceding to turn back to him again. 

ILLYA

You did nothing wrong.

Gaby pauses, conceding on sight of his softness. A sigh decompresses out from under her chest. 

GABY

(softening)

I'm sorry, it's just--

She lurches, hand quickly covering her mouth before she bolts inside. Illya is left blinking in her wake, briefly stunned by the sudden turn before he follows after her. 

Gaby staggers into the elevator, holding her mouth as she fumbles for the right button. Illya's hand sweeps the door before it can close. The two exchange a look as he enters. The doors squeak shut in between their silence. Gaby cannot look at him, and Illya simply can't look away from her. 

GABY

(steeling herself)

I hate Napoleon

Illya's expression sours, immediately tuning his attention on the door. He can not look her in the eye with the amount of disdain that name provokes. 

ILLYA

(gravely)

What did he do?

Gaby shakes her head, attempting to compose herself sloppily against the side of the elevator. She eases her hat off her head, primping at the lost cause that is her hair. 

GABY

Just him and his stupidly chiseled face. Thinking he could out drink me. You know tequila isn't that bad, and then it's awful.

The elevator DINGS, doors opening to their floor. Gaby steps out confidently, swinging her hat around as she talks. 

GABY

Jokes on him.

She trips over her own feet. Before she can hit the ground, Illya has caught her by the elbow. A sigh seethes through his teeth as he bends to scoop her into his arms. She doesn't fight it. 

ILLYA

(continuing to pick up Gaby's things, he near grumbles)

Come now. Let's get you to bed, little chop chop girl.

Gaby snakes her arms around him drunkenly, hair cascaded over her face as she presses her cheek against the broad of his shoulder. He begins striding down the hall towards her room. 

GABY

(mumbling)

You should've said something.

ILLYA

I know.

The room is pitch black as the door rattles aggressively back against the wall. Illya drops most of the items he's juggling, nudging the door shut with his toe. He crosses the suite to begin lowering Gaby onto the bed. She resists, curling herself closer to him. She exhales blissfully. 

GABY

You smell nice.

Illya freezes, unsure what to do with himself in such a situation. 

ILLYA

(awkwardly)

Thank you. Now go back to sleep.

Gaby lifts her head, glaring at him up and down in a petulant manner. 

GABY

_You_ go back to sleep.

ILLYA

(getting flustered)

I won't tell you twice.

Gaby's eyebrows raise, she reels back from him. She won't accept his sass inebriated or sober. Illya attempts to lower her down onto the bed, only to find her refusing to let him go. 

GABY

What are you going to do about it?

ILLYA

I will carry you to the bathroom, fill the tub with ice cold water and drop you in it. 

GABY

Try that, and you're going down with me.

Her grip tightens around him, drawing herself closer to him. Illya is frozen in place, he can only stare on as she does what she pleases. 

GABY

You're a somewhat smart man, now get into bed with me if you know what's good for you.

ILLYA

(blurts)

I know what's good for me. 

Gaby is close now, her chin tilts upward. She's ready to kiss him, but not yet taking that plunge. 

GABY

Am I not good for you?

Illya is silent. Completely unsure of how to compose himself. 

ILLYA

...No

(he clears his throat)

Definitely not.

Gaby's expression changes, confused and searching his face for the right answers. After a beat of lingering, she finally draws a breath and releases him to clamber into bed. Her head falls heavy into the pillow as she claws the blankets up to her nose. 

GABY

(muffled)

Leave.

Illya stands there looking entirely helpless, not entirely sure what has just happened from start to finish. His hand wipes his face, clearing his expression as he turns to leave the room. 

NAPOLEON'S ROOM

Napoleon is lounging in an arm chair beside his bed half dressed and sunken into a complete state of tranquility. One leg outstretched onto the edge of his bed swings to a beat only he can hear. Illya bursts through his door with a loud BANG, looking visibly upset after his encounter. He stumbles dead in his tracks at the sight of Napoleon, who seems to be entirely unaffected by his partner's presence. Instead of question him, he sips casually at a brandy locked in his hand. 

NAPOLEON

(slightly slurring.)

Peril. You look more psychotic than usual. Perhaps it's just the proximity.

Illya glares down at the glass in Napoleon's hand, eyes flickering back up to his face in obvious disapproval. 

ILLYA

Keep mind of your own business, Cowboy. You should have not gotten her so drunk.

Napoleon tiredly rubs a finger at the corner of one eye to the bridge of his brow. His hand casually swings outward, looking up at him with a expression that states the obvious. 

NAPOLEON

We're in Brazil.

Illya's eyes roll. In secondary thought, he reaches out for Napoleon and snatches the glass out of his hand. Before Napoleon can react, the Russian downs the drink in one gulp. 

NAPOLEON

Better late than never. You missed the beach, though. I'm afraid it's not the same at night.

Illya hisses out, ignoring Napoleon's words as he shoves the glass overturned on the table. He turns away, arms raising as his building frustration comes to a head. 

ILLYA

(blurting)

I bought two movie tickets. She needed to rest.

Napoleon's eyebrow raises at Illya's back a moment before his chin tips down. He pats himself down lazily, his foot move off of its perch so that he can begin assembling himself again. 

NAPOLEON

Well, why didn't you say so? I'll get dressed.

Illya twists around the room, still caught up with himself as he sinks into the opposite chair. Tiredly, he rubs at his temple. 

NAPOLEON

Peril, no offense but you're really bringing down the room.

He stands, hovering his hand over the table as if he might need a crutch. Deeming himself safe, he moves across the room to address his suitcase and the man over his shoulder. 

NAPOLEON

Change into something evening casual. Those shorts with a turtleneck is a mockery.

Illya slowly looks up from his hand looking ready to crush something. 

THE STREETS

The night has cooled. Couples bustle to their nightly activities, the streets quietly absent of its usual haphazard traffic. The two men cut through the crowd at a calm pace. Illya has changed to a pair of well-fitted slacks. He walks alongside Napoleon, who walks chipperly down the sidewalk in a fine woven suit paired with a light gray tie. He saunters remarkably well despite being drunk, although Illya trains a careful eye on him as they walk. 

NAPOLEON

What are the tickets for?

ILLYA

Cleopatra.

(a beat)

Have you seen it?

NAPOLEON

No, but I've heard of it. It's a smart choice.

(a beat)

I have a craving for pão de queijo. Have you ever had it?

ILLYA

(rolling his eyes. entertaining him for the sake of it)

No. Is a bread, is it not?

NAPOLEON

Mmhm, cheese bread, baked, not fried. I had it once in Portugal. As it happens, they make for an excellent post-coital snack, just in case you're ever at a loss.

They stop at a crossing in the street. Illya at a loss for words at the mention of 'post-coital', seems to try to focus on anything but the man beside him. Napoleon looks slightly ill, adjusting a hand across his jacket as the moment passes. Illya's attentions turn to Napoleon in the corner of his eye. 

ILLYA

Perhaps eating is not such a good idea.

NAPOLEON

(belligerent. he walks on with a pressed smile.)

It'll pass.

Illya watches him go, looking rather irritable at his partner's will to advance. Reluctantly, he follows. 

ILLYA

You want to slow down? You will have time for popcorn, Cowboy. I understood you were peckish.

NAPOLEON

(looking slightly pale, yet still fabulous)

If it's all the same to you, I think I'll pass.

ILLYA

(growing increasingly condescending)

Or we could stop and get you some Brazilian bread. Or was it Portuguese?

Napoleon stops, throwing a critical look at Illya's back as he passes him. 

NAPOLEON

Brazilian. If this is how you are during outings, it's no wonder Gaby chose to sleep in.

The sneer fades from Illya's face. He raises his hand in turn to correct him. 

ILLYA

She was too drunk to come. And she would not know because we have not taken an outing yet. Have not had time off duty, you know this.

Napoleon straightens himself, unable to class the look of surprise on his face. He had figured there had been some development between the two of them. 

NAPOLEON

What about Istanbul?

Illya turns, looking for a place to direct his attentions than Napoleon walking beside him. His expression is obviously flustered, bordering irritable. 

ILLYA

Do not talk about Istanbul.

Napoleon hums agreeably, picking up the pace after a moment or two with Illya's attitude having no effect on him. 

NAPOLEON

May I make a suggestion? The next time you plan a day with someone, tell them about it.

ILLYA

I do not need your suggestions, cowboy.

BIJOU THEATER

Theater patrons gather in a niche lobby dusted with old red curtains. A popcorn stand nestled in one corner serves bags of popcorn to couples before they slip into the darkened theater. The room is emptying slowly as people slip inside to gather their seats. 

Napoleon immediately slips into the popcorn line, which meanders a step at a time. Illya shortly appears at his side, he glances around as if assessing the building of its exits. 

ILLYA

(seriously)

We have 10 minutes.

NAPOLEON

(sighing)

Peril, it's not a mission. You do realize the objective of a night out is to enjoy yourself, right?

ILLYA

What does it look like I'm doing, Cowboy?

Napoleon retrieves his popcorn, he is in the middle of assessing the butter quantity before picking at which kernel he wants to eat first. He looks up, kernel in hand to pop into his mouth. He makes eye contact with an usher standing at the door. 

NAPOLEON

You look like if enjoyment were a person, you would punch them to death. Or you're enduring torture resistance training.

Illya, catching sight of this, reaches stubbornly into the other's popcorn bag. Napoleon is too busy winking at said female usher. She giggles. 

ILLYA

Very funny, Cowboy.

(he heads inside, turning his head as if to ensure Napoleon is still following)

I will leave it up to you to find out. 

Napoleon turns his attentions back to his partner, amusement warm on his lips. 

NAPOLEON

How coy of you.

Illya and Napoleon move to sit down in a stray row to themselves before the isle. Napoleon stretches his legs as the film begins to play, still looking all too pleased. He watches for all but 10 seconds before turning to look at Illya, who is crammed uncomfortably into the seat beside him with a hand full of popcorn. 

NAPOLEON

(in a low whisper)

Give me a hint, at least.

Illya raises his popcorn wielded hand an inch to display. 

ILLYA

This I like.

He proceeds to pop kernels into his mouth, keeping his eyes on the screen as the feature starts. Napoleon, however, keeps his eyes on him. 

NAPOLEON

It's comforting to learn you do enjoy sustenance, and aren't actually an unusually hostile robot in disguise. We had our doubts.

Illya falls quiet, eyes glazing over the screen ahead. Stubbornly, he shuffles in his seat. 

ILLYA

What other doubts did you have?

Napoleon raises an eyebrow at him from the corner of his eye. He continues to eat his popcorn daintily in comparison. 

NAPOLEON

Well, if we're aiming for sincerity.

(a woman from two rows away turns to shush him. he continues on as if she hadn't)

I doubted that we could ever see each other as more than an inconvenience we were forced to endure at the behest of our employers.

ILLYA

And her?

NAPOLEON

(dusting popcorn crumbs off his expensive suit)

Has a mind of her own, although she seems to be of the opinion we remain at odds simply because we enjoy the fight.

It doesn't seem to be the answer Illya is looking for, but he doesn't seem to bent on it for long. He dusts his hands clean. 

ILLYA

(admittedly impressed)

That was probably the most sincerity I have heard from you, Cowboy.

Napoleon tilts his head in a considerable note. Looking rather satisfied himself. 

NAPOLEON

It was very rewarding. Do I get a prize?

ILLYA

No.

NAPOLEON

(nods to the usher in the corner as he hands Illya his popcorn bag)

I'm going to go and try the same line on her. I'll be back before the bath scene.

Illya's gaze follows him as he stands, clearly unsure if he should be annoyed at the audacity of being ditched in the middle of a movie. Napoleon, however, has no qualms of the matter. In face of his companion's admonishment, he wriggles his eyebrows before disappearing out of the theater.



	2. The Jilted Lover

O LIRIO RESORT

It's another beautiful day in Florianópolis. On the upper side of the beach sits a resort considered grand for its time. Sharp dressed bell boys smile comfortingly as they pry open gilded double doors with a stiff bow. Light cascades through the lobby windows, illuminating the miniature jungle of exotic flowers and potted plants tucked inside. 

Solo strolls through the grand entry, tucking his sunglasses neatly into one pocket. His eyes flicker over a tall man tucked into a modern looking sofa chair, leg crossed over his knee as he reads a newspaper. He comes to rest his arm against the front desk, flashing the concierge a charming smile as he rests his suitcase down at his feet. 

NAPOLEON 

Good afternoon, I believe I have a reservation. 

Illya glances up briefly from his newspaper as Napoleon's obstinate charm wafts through the open lobby. The elevator across the room DINGS, opening to reveal a housekeeping cart being pushed aggressively by none other than Gaby. To the better of him, Illya's newspaper droops beneath a look of surprise after the fact. They lock eyes for a split second before Gaby hurriedly shuffles off into an adjacent corridor. 

NAPOLEON 

( glancing at the passing cart as he speaks )

Room 306, was it? And do...send my card up. I would be eternally grateful. 

Napoleon gives the concierge a wink, pulling himself from the desk with key in hand to pick up his suitcase again. Illya passes him without so much of a glance, returning the newspaper to the concierge with a placid smile. 

ILLYA 

Excuse me, where is your bathroom? 

CUT TO:

Gaby balances a pile of freshly fluffed towels on top of her cart as she bumps her way out of the main laundry. Women's laughter spills through the door as it swings shut behind her. She looks tired, brushing a curl of hair poking out from under her uniform crown with the back of her hand. She eases the cart to a stop, popping the call button to the elevator as she waits. 

A shadow looms beside her, and she glances halfheartedly in its direction. Upon a second glance she can see that it's Illya, gazing down at his watch from underneath his flat cap. She turns her attention back, pretending as if she hadn't noticed him at all. The elevator DINGS as the door sweeps open.

Gaby excuses herself into the elevator, Illya calmly follows to stand beside stiff as a toy soldier. 

GABY 

( her head tilts to the side )

Herzenritter will be out all day. 

ILLYA 

Where did he go? 

GABY 

He's with a man called Luciano Barbosa, they're looking at locations to open a new night club together. According to the other housekeepers, Herzenritter is broke and is looking to strike a deal with the local mob. Barbosa is one of them. 

ILLYA 

( looking at her now in the corner of his eye )

He does not sound like one of the friends we are interested in. 

GABY 

( sighs tiredly )

Probably not. I can get a look in his office. I doubt we'll find much in it, but it's as good of a start as any.

ILLYA 

I will keep watch for his return. If you hear alarm, get out of there as soon as possible.

Gaby nods, bearing to look at him with a slight turn of her head. An awkwardness still sits between them, they both seem to notice it all at once and look away from one another again. 

The elevator DINGS again as the door swings open. Gaby hurriedly nudges the cart out of the elevator and turns down the hall. In her absence, Illya blows out a sigh and taps the door button once more. 

HERZENRITTER'S OFFICE

The door handle jiggles precariously until it can be pried open. Gaby straightens up now in the doorway, throwing a cautious look back as she drags her cart inside. 

She proceeds to climb through every inch of the office: prying up sofa cushions, rifling through drawers, opening random books on a shelf. She peeks behind: curtains, paintings, the rug under the table. 

By the end of it, she stands in the middle of the room entirely empty handed, fingers tapping against her hip and looking utterly annoyed at the fact. 

NAPOLEON'S ROOM

Gaby rolls her cart to the side of the hall way. A silver platter now replaces the pile of linens balanced on top, she looks entirely displeased as she slings her arm up to door 306 to give it a curt KNOCK. 

GABY 

( chiming )

Room service! 

NAPOLEON (o.s)

It's open. 

Her head tilts, as if turning to recognize that voice. She pushes open the door to find Napoleon standing in the middle of the room sussing vodka into a tall glass. Quickly, she moves to tug her cart inside and snap the door shut behind her. 

She stops in the entry to the suite to lift the lid, her head tilted curiously to find an arrangement of celery and peppers beside a tumbler of tomato juice. 

GABY 

Ah, ein Konterbier trinken.

NAPOLEON 

(taking the tumbler to fill his glass with tomato juice)

Ja 

He sets the glass down before her, expression wearing but pleasant. His hangover is wearing him, despite his efforts. 

NAPOLEON 

Extra Mary. Watch out, she kicks. 

He tops it off with a celery stick. Gaby makes a displeased face, lifting the glass to test a smell. 

GABY 

( feigning )

Usually people start with beer... 

Napoleon slates her a look as he shakes out his wrist to check his watch. Satisfied, he turns to fix himself poison of the same. Gaby toys the celery in her drink, moving to set it down at the coffee table as she plops into a chair. 

NAPOLEON 

( eyeing her briefly as he turns back around )

I have to ask. Waverly's idea or yours? 

Gaby's gaze hardens at his back, she glances down at her self in fleeting self-consciousness before ripping at the crown pinned to her head. She tosses it with an air of disgust. 

GABY 

( sucking in a breath )

Herzenritter has a fondness for hiring migrant German workers. It was relatively easy getting a hold of his books.

Napoleon raises an eyebrow in consideration, he nods briefly as he sinks into a chair opposite of her. 

NAPOLEON 

If I weren't already familiar with his regard for you, I'd say you were being hazed. 

( he pauses to test his drink )

Were they a bust? 

GABY 

Pretty much. He must carry a pocketbook. He's currently off with an investor, the men in the kitchens say he's some big shot mobster. Maybe a big shot American investor like you can win him over.

NAPOLEON 

Did you get a where? 

Gaby wriggles to fit her hands into her apron pockets to procure a folded piece of paper and toss it onto the table between them. 

GABY 

He's looking to open a night club, they're looking at locations today. 

NAPOLEON 

( cheeks puff with a tired sigh )

To another night of drinking and dancing. 

He raises his glass to her in a cheeky notion, tipping the glass back to polish it off. The glass CLINKS hard against the table when he sets it, rising to adjust his tie. Gaby looks on, mildly amused in his turn of attitude. 

GABY 

( fighting back a smile )

What's this, Napoleon Solo not up for a night of debauchery? 

Napoleon raises his hand to stop her there, only to turn a charming smile instead. 

NAPOLEON 

Only because you won't be joining me. Wining and dining the ill-reputable is what I do, they're just usually prettier in heels. 

( a beat as Gaby looks away, unaffected )

Are you hungry?

GABY 

( turning to look at the cart )

Well it's not like I can just go strolling out for lunch. 

NAPOLEON 

Of course not. 

Gaby turns her attention back to him in some form of hesitant curiosity. Napoleon makes his way to the phone, adjusting his sleeves as he pins the phone under his ear. 

NAPOLEON 

Yes, I need you to send someone to the market--No, that won't be necessary-- 

Gaby sits, looking increasingly more confused as he lists a number of items over the phone. 

NAPOLEON 

Obrigado. 

( hangs up to look at her )

I suggest you look ravished in bed by the time he arrives. 

Gaby's expression drops to something short of abject offense. Unaffected, Napoleon stops to check his watch. 

NAPOLEON 

I gave him ten minutes. 

GABY 

( sputtering )

You want me to look _what_? 

Napoleon turns, walking over to the kitchenette to begin preparing the space. Gaby's gaze follows him, surprised by his sheer audacity. 

GABY 

Can't I just...hide in the bath? 

He looks up at her, as if it'd be the slightest inconvenience towards him. 

NAPOLEON 

I'd rather you didn't, I need to get ready to leave. 

GABY 

( voice rising as her hand shoots out objectively )

Get ready? You look fine! 

NAPOLEON 

( mockingly hurt )

Just fine? 

His look meets Gaby's obviously displeased glare. He holds it for a moment before continuing to prepare his station. 

NAPOLEON 

To note, the cart will be more difficult to hide. I leave the decision in your capable hands.

Gaby rolls her eyes, dropping her gaze into her lap to consider. She scoots herself out of her chair and begins pulling the pins out of her hair. Napoleon tries not to watch her too objectively as she rounds the suite to discard articles of her uniform. In a pause around the seating area, she knocks a lamp to the floor for authenticity. 

GABY 

( huffs as she begins to unbutton her uniform)

I'm only doing this because Herzenritter has a thing for adventurous maids. 

Napoleon merely hums in response, dumping a bowl of complementary contents onto the counter to clean it. He doesn't flinch as the uniform goes flying at his face, catching it with an ease that makes Gaby seethe. Carefully, he drapes it over the back of a chair on his way into the bathroom. 

Gaby kicks her shoes off to the side to climb into the wide bed, clawing under the covers in some sense of modesty. Settled, Napoleon pops his head out of the bathroom to assess her work. 

NAPOLEON 

You look like you need a cigarette. 

GABY 

( terse )

I'll take one 

NAPOLEON 

( emerging while drying his bowl )

You're the help. Help yourself. 

He gestures to his jacket laid over the other chair in the sitting area. Gaby frowns, drawing in another irritable look as Napoleon draws back to the kitchenette. 

GABY 

( scoffing )

You treat all your companions like this? 

NAPOLEON 

( looking up from his bowl )

You mean the ones I've actually slept with? 

Gaby throws the covers aside to retrieve the case of cigarettes and a box of matches. Checking his watch again, he steps carefully out of his shoes. 

GABY 

Just saying, if I have to play the part you might as well too. 

The concept doesn't stop him dead in his tracks, but a consideration passes him as he sits at the edge of the bed. Idly, he ruffles his hair to fall just so while she lights her cigarette. 

NAPOLEON 

( neither confused or unamused )

I'm not sure I follow. 

When she turns around, shaking the lit match out, Napoleon is rested neatly on one side of the bed with his hands fitted together across his stomach. He nods in suggestion to the space beside him. Gaby's mouth opens to protest when there is a hard KNOCK on the door. Her head whips to face it, mouth pulled to a frown before she relents to join Napoleon in bed. 

GABY 

It's open! 

It's just as she leans to get comfortable in Napoleon's outstretched arm that Illya emerges into the suite. He looks ready to speak, but any words fall short on the sight of the other two agents in bed together. 

Both Napoleon and Gaby sit frozen in place, Gaby in a look of discernible shock. Napoleon quickly recovers with a pressed smile, in a certain light he could pass for 'pleasantly surprised'. 

NAPOLEON 

(raising his arm over gaby to gesture to the open door)

Joining us for lunch? 

Napoleon's words don't seem to register with Illya at all. The Russian's fingers begin to shake, dissolving into his signature finger tap against the sides of his legs. He's not sure what he's seeing. He doesn't know how to comprehend it. 

It's Gaby who moves first, haphazardly smudging out her cigarette into a tray on the side table. She slides across the bed with a hesitance akin to approaching a startled animal. It's only when Napoleon moves, Illya snaps out of his trance to flip the coffee table out of his way. It knocks into the kitchenette with a boisterous SHATTER. 

GABY 

( startled )

Illya! 

Before Illya can do any more structural damage, Gaby has risen to her feet to stop him. Napoleon is already sliding behind her towards the door. His gaze meets the service boy standing in the hallway in absolute mortification. He nods to him with a small smile, closing the door in his face before something else inevitably tips over in the scuffle. When he turns, Gaby has claimed Illya by the forearms. Despite being nearly twice her size, she holds her own against him. 

NAPOLEON 

Peril, I feel like this may be an overreaction. 

GABY 

( calmly )

Illya, it's just a set up.

Illya doesn't move to fight Gaby's grip, left with no choice but to subdue his own anger. His hardened glare after Napoleon is forced down to her. Within a few heavy breaths, the seething anger has softened to a dithering frustration. Chest steady with breath, he blinks before turning himself away from her grasp. 

Gaby releases him, hands snapping back as if she'd touched something too hot. All too quickly aware, she turns to get dressed. 

NAPOLEON 

( taking in the sight of his wrecked suite with a sigh )

I guess we'll be eating out after all. 

GABY 

It'll be fine, I'll just tell the others he's just your jealous lover.

Illya's fingers flex into his palms, his eyes dart along the walls from his self-imposed time out corner. 

ILLYA 

( huffy )

I don't like this. The cover is too rushed. I was not informed. 

GABY 

( straightening out her uniform )

It'll be fine. It's fixable. I'll continue with the staff, see if I can get any useful gossip about Herzenritter out of them. 

Napoleon bends to tap some glass out of his left shoe before fitting it over his ankle as he gathers his things from the mess. 

NAPOLEON 

And I'll be working the business angle with him. If at the very least, it'll keep him occupied until we find what we need. 

( he pauses a beat, fixing the jacket over his shoulders )

By the sound of it, our friend has attracted some flies. I believe that's where you'll come in, Peril. 

Illya's head lifts, shooting Napoleon a troubled look. Napoleon meets his gaze, completely unaffected by his partner's moodiness. He turns to excuse himself, stepping over a strewn lamp in the process. 

NAPOLEON 

Does 7:30 sound good to you? 

Gaby blinks up from her sudden interest in the spot on her floor. Her fingers tap rhythmically along hips as Napoleon's hasty exit ends with the door CLICKing in between their thick silence. 

GABY 

You know what? I don't get you.

Illya stiffens, turning his attentions towards her. They both stand at either ends of the mess he's made. Neither drifting closer or farther. 

ILLYA 

What is there to get? 

GABY 

( she opens her mouth to speak but stops and shakes her head )

You don't just get to be jealous over who I spend my time with when you can't make up your mind as to what you actually want. 

Illya's expression falls before her, looking no better than a kicked puppy spun with a hard frown. He struggles to find his words, hands lifting ineffectually to try and speak for him. 

ILLYA 

It is not so simple. This is job, we are partners. 

The answer seems to deflate her, drawing her away to excuse herself. 

GABY 

( soberly )

No, I get it. But you need to figure out which is more important to you. 

Illya stays planted, leaning towards the motion of her exit, but his fingers stay still. The door clicks shut, leaving him in an unsettling silence. 

O LIRIO RESORT - DUSK 

The grandness of the resort sinks into darkness as the sky begins to dither behind it. Napoleon Solo stands with his jacket folded over one arm, turned up just so to check his watch. As the seconds tick to precisely 7:30, a beaten cab rolls up to a stop at his feet. A smile crosses his lips briefly before he pops open the back door and deposits himself into the stretch of tattered seat. Before Illya can so much as pull away, an address scrawled on hotel stationary floats into his lap. 

NAPOLEON 

Leave me 2 blocks away, if you'll please. 

Illya lifts his head just so to catch Napoleon's gaze through the rear view mirror. His lips press into a fine line, catching the way Napoleon lounges aggressively in the back seat as if it were a real cab ride. The car rolls to a stop at a busy street corner. Illya turns to rest his elbow on the back of his seat, looking no more suspicious than looking to get paid for his services. 

ILLYA 

Try not to ruin everything, cowboy. 

NAPOLEON 

( looks up with a smile )

Remember comrade, think with your other head. 

He exits the car before Illya can completely roll his eyes. 

VILLA MIMOSA 

HERZENRITTER 

So, Mr Solomon. What brings your investments down to Brazil?

NAPOLEON 

Well, I hear its a rapidly expanding market. Lots of opportunity. You're already a prime example of that, wouldn't you say? 

Illya sits at the edge of the bar nursing a full drink. Ever so often his gaze falls across the room to the booth where Herzenritter and Napoleon sit. They aren't alone, although their company looks less than desirable. 

Napoleon politely bows, excusing himself from the table as the women bombard Herzenritter from either side. He adjusts the button of his jacket, moving to discard his empty glass at the bar. His hand stills the glass at Illya's side, gaze following the bartender down the line. 

NAPOLEON 

( quietly enough )

Men's restroom, meet me. Be discreet. 

Illya makes no acknowledgment of it, knocking back his drink with a thick gulp. Napoleon is quick to disappear, directing the bartender's attentions as he turns off around a corner. Illya waits, savoring what's left of his glass before turning up from his chair to follow. 

He finds the bathroom empty, hummingly quiet under his footfall. Without a word, he eyes the rogue stall at the edge of the room and turns to wash his hands. Napoleon emerges, teasing at his cuff links with an eye on the door. 

NAPOLEON 

There's a snag. As predicted. We're in business, but I can't get close to him until his posse disperses. Five. Large. Brazilian tempers. 

ILLYA 

( nonpluss )

What, you can't handle four men on your own? 

Napoleon shrugs, hands raising in a 'well' formation. 

NAPOLEON 

I thought I'd leave it to the expert. If I'm still there by the time you're finished, be ready to take it to the next level.

Illya's mouth opens, armed with a retort. A distinct sound of footsteps patter down the hall towards them, turning both agent's heads in tandem to the door. As Illya's attention whips back, the American snags him by the shoulder to pull him up against the crook of the wall. 

NAPOLEON 

( careful )

Hold still. Don't lose your temper.

The door swings open as a patron enters, stumbling upon the two agents pressed intimately in the corner. Napoleon has a hand locked around Illya's belt, their noses just a breath apart. Illya's hand steadies on the wall, breath tight in his chest. Napoleon's expression rambles up startled by the intrusion, shoving Illya a step back before connecting a fist to his jaw. Illya catches himself on the side of a sink wearing a look that's both alarmed and angry. 

NAPOLEON 

( coldly )

I don't want to see you around here again. 

Illya sputters a breath, turning to watch Napoleon step around the startled patron and leave. 

Napoleon idly rubs at his third knuckle, swinging back into the round booth of Herzenritter's company. Illya emerges not a few seconds later, looking slightly discombobulated. He fixes his hair before adjusting his jaw with an attention to the soreness of it. From his perch, he witnesses Napoleon lean precariously across the table to alert Herzenritter. Soon the attention carries over to one of the men standing around, he is the one who finally makes eye contact. Pretending to blatantly not have seen at all, Illya turns to walk away. 

GUARD 

( calling over the music as he trods after)

Ay, alemão! Ay!

Illya turns back into the bathroom, wringing out the tension of his fingers as the thug enters. 

The group of men at the table don't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. A few turn to train their eyes down the hall, whispering to one another above Napoleon's company. Napoleon sighs, looking despondent over the situation. Two more men excuse themselves to the restroom. 

When Illya emerges, Herzenritter and Napoleon are flocked with a crowd of women. By the rumble of giggles, Napoleon's charms have found their way to them. 

NAPOLEON 

And here I was, wondering where this pineapple came from--

ILLYA 

( brushing his way through the crowd )

Move. 

Napoleon freezes on sight of Illya, nearly empty glass swaying in hand. His eyebrows drop to a look of concern, trained on Illya's gaze as Herzenritter leans over to address him privately. 

HERZENRITTER 

( skeptical )

Who is this man? 

NAPOLEON 

( sighing )

I told him to leave. He's obviously just exercised some poor judgment. 

Napoleon beckons him out of the booth with a soft touch to the shoulder. 

NAPOLEON 

We should probably go, he may cause a scene. 

Herzenritter agrees, nodding to the last of the bodyguards to tend to him. Illya bolts forward, the women around him displacing with a symphony of SHRIEKS. Napoleon quickly ushers Herzenritter to his feet, kindly herding him away as Illya makes a scene. 

A hand lands on Illya's hip, and by reflex he throws his elbow into the man's throat. Napoleon throws a cautionary glance backwards as a tussle breaks out to take the 10 foot Russian down. 

He doesn't linger for the outcome. 

ILLYA'S ROOM 

There is a light KNOCK on the door. Illya, looking as displeased as ever, drags himself open the door. Napoleon lingers in the hallway, slightly ruffled in appearance. He greets Illya with a raise of his eyebrow before inviting himself inside. Illya remains at the door half turned before shutting it quietly. 

NAPOLEON 

( tiredly )

You have the subtlety of a wrecking ball, anyone ever tell you that? 

ILLYA 

( arms folding )

You are not so smooth as you think. 

NAPOLEON 

( hums )

Herzenritter is suspicious. He's contacted Barbosa. It will only be a matter of time before we're under mob fire. We're in and out tomorrow night at the latest. 

ILLYA 

Did you get anything? 

Napoleon opens his jacket to rifle through his pockets. Eventually, he procures a key ring to toss in Illya's direction. He bends to catch it, curiously tossing it up in his hand. 

NAPOLEON 

Don't say I never gave you anything. 

ILLYA 

( inspecting it )

A lock box key? 

NAPOLEON 

I'll keep Herzenritter occupied tomorrow while you figure out where that gets you. Hopefully, Gaby will have a lead to go off of.

Illya nods only once, enclosing the key in his hand.



	3. The Plan's Awry

GABY'S ROOM - NIGHT 

Gaby's door slowly creaks open to find Illya haunting the dark side of his suite. His exhaustion wears him, looking only slightly ruffled from the night's events. The only visible injury he wields is a braised cheekbone. 

Gaby looks minuscule before him in her over-sized pajamas, she blinks in surprise and slowly turns to the side to let him through. He accepts the invitation without word. 

GABY 

( mildly taken back as she inspects him)

What happened? 

ILLYA 

( dismissively )

Is nothing, I have only come to give you this. 

The lock box key lies in his open hand for her taking. It piques her curiosity, and she takes it under a light without a word. Illya turns slowly to watch her, but remains a place marker by the door. He finds a kink in his neck to knead while she investigates. 

ILLYA 

It belongs to a lock box, maybe you have seen such a thing.

Gaby 

Not in his office, I've gone through it twice over now. It must be at his house. 

It's only when she lowers the key she notes his subtle fussing. 

GABY 

( sighs )

For christ's sake, if you need something just say-- 

ILLYA 

( cutting her off softly, his hand drops )

No, is fine. 

Gaby takes in the sight of him, quietly trying to suss him out. He doesn't relent, however. He holds her gaze and the moment lasts until she breaks away huffily, tossing the key onto the table. 

GABY 

( annoyed )

Fine. 

Unbeknownst to her, a smile crosses his lips. His hand lands on the doorway, turning back to her before he leaves. 

ILLYA 

Get some rest. Tomorrow we will find where that key goes. Cowboy will keep the mark occupied. 

Gaby's arms press tight against her chest, but it does nothing to stifle the flutter of her mouth while she tries to find the words she wants to say. They don't come, she flusters. 

GABY 

Right...Goodnight. 

Illya nods, expression soft as he turns to excuse himself back into his suite. 

ILLYA 

Goodnight. 

NAPOLEON'S ROOM - MORNING 

KNOCK KNOCK 

GABY 

( chiming )

Housekeeping! 

Napoleon appears in his doorway with a signature swagger, angling Gaby a complacent look. Gaby in turn looks wound, actively rejecting his neutral wiles to turn herself inside. His hand flattens against his house coat, pleasantly charmed as he makes room for her to enter. 

NAPOLEON 

( stepping aside to let her through )

Now, I warned you not to go and fall in love with me. 

Gaby's eyebrows raise objectively, hip-tapping her cart to swing nicely through the doorway into his room. 

GABY 

( cheeky )

You tell that to your cabbie lover? 

NAPOLEON 

( with a mock sigh )

I did, but they always do anyway. 

Edging the door closed, he trails after her into the suite. Gaby immediately flounces into the nearest sofa, deflating into it with a soft sigh. 

NAPOLEON 

I have an appointment with Herzenritter this afternoon, so I will have to leave you two to it. 

( a beat, he looks up from tying his tie.)

Speaking of, where is Peril? 

GABY 

Beats me. 

Gaby delicately pulls her legs out from over the arm of the sofa to address the room service Napoleon has abandoned at the coffee table for his preening. She lifts the tray lid curiously to find a concoction of shrimp in a delicate sauce. Her teeth find her lip to curb her hunger. 

NAPOLEON 

You know, he's painted a target on his back for this affair. 

She turns to meet him with a curiously innocent look, setting the lid down in favor of eating his lunch. Napoleon wafts a gesture her way to do as she likes, and she continues with fervor. 

GABY 

I noticed. You don't think he can handle it? 

Gaby attacks the food with about the grace of a stray dog. The sight of it turns Napoleon's face, he refuses to comment. 

NAPOLEON 

I think Barbosa is going to catch on a lot quicker than we gave them credit for.

GABY 

( with her mouth half full )

Well, he's not going to be with you. 

NAPOLEON 

( half turning to address her over his shoulder )

No, but if Barbosa has been courting Herzenritter like a hot Swiss heiress, he'll have his eyes everywhere that counts.

GABY 

( pouring herself a drink while eating)

Well, do you have any suggestions? 

NAPOLEON 

( pausing, he shrugs as if it's obvious )

Yes, we give them what they want. 

Gaby nearly chokes, sitting up from her scavenging hunch to graze at Napoleon's dutiful tidying. 

GABY 

( mildly alarmed )

You want to give him up to the Brazilian mob? 

Napoleon turns, looking deplorably innocent after the fact of his suggestion. 

NAPOLEON 

You don't think he can handle it? 

Gaby turns her head, knowingly condemned for showing concern. Napoleon smiles, as if he's won, turning back to close his suitcase. 

GABY 

( takes a breath )

So, your jilted lover shows up to meddle on your behalf and gets himself caught. Giving me time to go in and look for the documents.

NAPOLEON 

( hums affirmative )

Then they try to use him as leverage to get me to back out of my deal. And I back out, with good reason. We walk free of suspicion from both Herzenritter and the mob. 

Gaby's eyebrows notch upward, absent of an argument otherwise. Her plate empty, she withdraws into her seat with half a glass of mineral water. Napoleon bows down to her table to scrounge the plates into a pile. 

GABY 

( turning her head to watch him )

Does he know? 

NAPOLEON 

( frowns objectively )

That, I don't know. 

As if on cue, Illya enters abrasively. Napoleon straightens from his cleaning, stacked plates tower in his hand as if he were the world's best dressed waiter. 

NAPOLEON 

You're late. 

Napoleon's chastising bounces off Illya to no avail, he takes two steps in to hover at the edge of their scene. 

ILLYA 

( slightly breathless )

Bodyguards in the lobby and delivery entrance. I had to use a fire ladder. Herzenritter leaves soon. 

NAPOLEON 

( after briefly sharing a look to Gaby )

About that. Perhaps you should consider clearing up your schedule. 

HERZENRITTER'S VILLA

A villa matching the grandeur of O Lirio shines before the open sea. Men in fine khaki suits pass in and out of the patio on a clockwork meander. 

Illya and Gaby hover at the side of nearby property, heavily shaded by a thick row of palm trees. 

ILLYA 

( quietly )

Four men so far, at least two I saw at club. 

GABY 

( just as quiet )

Are you sure you want to do this? 

Illya turns to find a frown blossomed across her face. Silence eats up the space between them before he finally concedes to a small reassuring smile. 

ILLYA 

It will be fine. You remember when to go, yes? 

GABY 

( feeling patronized )

Yes. 

The tips of his fingertips reach far enough to ghost the side of her arm. She stiffens at the touch, briefly looking unsure of herself. 

ILLYA 

Don't worry. I'll put up a good fight. 

A nod shakes Gaby's head, leaving Illya to clamber across the wall and land with a RATTLE of the bushes on the other side. Her step falls back and she waits, listening for a cry to ring out. He's made contact. 

There is a distant SPLASH. Her foot pins against a planted palm alongside the fence. She pushes herself up to grab the top of the wall and struggle over the side of it. 

Wood SPLINTERS across the other side of the house. Gaby appears in the foyer, a black smudge in a bright room. She reaches for doors, any doors, folding through the halls and into dens and closets. A shadow dances across the kitchen-side window, sending her to the floor. It's there she can see a small narrow door tucked through the end of the pantry. 

Lights flicker on to reveal a small wine cellar. Her head turns to throw a cautionary look back up the stairs she's just descended. At the other end of the cellar is another door. 

The light clicks on with an antiquated buzz, Gaby stands frozen beside the switch as she finds herself surrounded by piles upon piles of war memorabilia. She swings the pack over her shoulder down onto an old dusty desk fitted in the corner, retrieving the radio inside. 

GABY 

I'm in. 

EMPTY LOT 

NAPOLEON 

( cheerfully )

Good, that's good. 

Herzenritter hums objectively at the opposite end of an empty room. Napoleon adjusts his hat, a curl of his hair covers enough of an ear piece tucked beneath it. His eyebrows raise questionably at Herzenritter, his hands open out to his sides as if to prompt him. 

NAPOLEON 

Give me an idea of what you see. 

HERZENRITTER'S VILLA 

Napoleon's voice crackles in stretched between gaps of white noise. Gaby's head turns again, taking in years and years of propaganda from the Third Reich. 

GABY 

Memorabilia from the war, a lot of collapsible paper boxes, a small desk, and....a safe. 

EMPTY LOT 

NAPOLEON 

( leaning over to touch Herzenritter's arm politely )

And what kind did you say it was, again? I think I left the papers in the car.

HERZENRITTER'S VILLA 

Gaby kneels down to inspect the safe, her fingers fling the dial around lazily. 

GABY 

It's a Mosler. 

EMPTY LOT 

Napoleon peers out from a partially boarded window as Herzenritter makes a trip to the car out front. He turns, taking up a casual stroll through what looks like the guts of an old industrial kitchen. 

NAPOLEON 

( hushed )

Unless you've packed a drill, you're going to have to crack it. Unpracticed, it can take hours.

A flit of annoyance washes over Gaby's face. 

GABY 

( slightly irritable )

A safe wasn't on the agenda. 

NAPOLEON 

You only need the first three digits. It will end in zero. One right, two left, one right, 0. If you can't find it, drill a hole through the back and shine a light inside. You can affix a mirror to watch the discs in the reflection while you turn the dial.

( pauses )

And be careful... Well, it was only in a handful of models. You'll be fine you're going the wrong way, I'm in the lockers. I was just looking at this and thinking you could convert this whole subbasement into living quarters for on-site security. Spare no expense. May I see? Oh, that's not good, look here... 

GABY 

( hesitant )

What was in a handful of models? 

Silence falls through. Gaby's eyes pierce through the empty slate of the radio. When nothing comes through, she hugs herself up to the safe and gets to work. 

EMPTY LOT 

Napoleon gestures from his car to Herzenritter's in the last negotiations of who is to follow who. He swoops into the seat of his car, clicking the radio tucked in his inner coat pocket back on. 

NAPOLEON 

Who knew Gestapo would be so tight lipped. Any luck?

HERZENRITTER'S VILLA 

Gaby's breath hitches when Napoleon's voice crackles through. She's lost her place, and angrily re-spins the dial to reset it. 

GABY 

Not with you shouting in my ear. I got the first number. 

NAPOLEON 

It's been a half hour. Something tells me you won't have the luxury of another hour. What is the first number? 

GABY 

Thirty-Nine. 

NAPOLEON 

Try 92. What's Peril's status? 

GABY

Having a pool party. You're sure they wont hurt him? 

( a beat )

92's a bust. 

NAPOLEON 

I'm sure they wont _kill_ him. 

( a beat )

Listening for it is a long shot. It's very tricky. You'll have more luck feeling it out. There will be a slight resistance on the dial when you've got it. You only need two more. 

Gaby shakes her hands out, resetting her wits. Her head cranks back, eyes wide to listen upstairs. It's silent. 

GABY 

( quietly )

He's coming back, isn't he. 

NAPOLEON 

Yes, but in your favor, so am I. Take your time. Treat the dial like you'd like to buy it dinner. 

Her eyes roll at no one in particular, set back into motion where she'd left off. 

GABY 

We don't all have your magical touch, Solo. 

The safe CLICKS very softly against her ear. Her fingers twitch, just barely teasing the resistance of the dial. 

NAPOLEON 

( trying not to sound all too pleased )

You're doing fine. 

Napoleon's car turns up on the side of the road outside Herzenritter's villa. Up ahead, Herzenritter is crossing through to meet up with the lone man at his post dressed in a swelling eye and pissy disposition. 

NAPOLEON 

You need to get out now. Take it all. 

Gaby's hand steadies against the dial, meticulously scanning through each number as the floorboards creak above her. 

Upstairs, Herzenritter tracks through the house to survey the damage by the poolside. It looks like a hurricane blew through. Napoleon appears behind him, hands in his pockets as he feigns surprise. An air of grief whistles through his lips. 

GABY 

( grumbles )

Scheiße 

The dial clicks, and Gaby's hand quickly falls flat against it. Her fingers jitter as they fumble the dial back to zero. Hesitantly, she turns the handle, which gives to her with a low CLICK. 

Napoleon mingles around the kitchen while Herzenritter blabs away in Portuguese over the phone. The corner of his eye locks on the small door behind the pantry. Herzenritter steps into the kitchen, beet red and looking akin to a grumpy bulldog. 

NAPOLEON 

That doesn't look good. Tell me, what happened... 

As their footsteps carry from the kitchen, Gaby peers out from beneath the height of the counters. Their droning voices drift further down the hall. 

Napoleon emerges from the gates of the villa looking distraught. Every few steps, he throws a look over his shoulder to find no one following. The keys jingle in his hand as he drops into the driver's seat of his car. The last time he glances up, Barbosa and Herzenritter hover in the entry to see him off. With a small wave, he pulls back onto the street. 

Four houses between them, the tension falls slack from his shoulders as he blows out a sigh. 

NAPOLEON 

Did you get it? 

Gaby sits up from the back seat, her head creeps to look through the rear window as they turn the corner. A sigh plumes from her lips and she rests her arm against the back of Napoleon's seat. 

GABY 

We're gold. 

ABANDONED LOT - NIGHT

There's nothing but a large, empty room with Illya deposited in a chair in the middle. He's sunken into the seat despite his binds, head craned upward in permanent fixture of the ceiling. Softly, his lips move. He's counting with the arrogance of a bored man in a waiting room. 

Illya's head does not right itself as the door opens. The men standing guard shout, the heel of a hand shoves Napoleon into the shallows. He turns to speak, only to be greeted by the barrel of a gun. Quickly, his mouth closes, excusing himself into the center of the space. 

NAPOLEON 

( shrugs )

I believe they're strong proponents of karma. 

Illya's attention drops from the ceiling to the man before him, his face contorts into a glare. 

ILLYA 

If you already had the information, why come in at all? 

NAPOLEON 

( a breath )

I was hoping to extract you peaceably. I see that was expecting too much of you. 

Napoleon's head angles to the side, glancing down at him in the most condescending manner. Illya's arms begin to test the ropes dug into his wrists. Both of them keep their eyes trained on the men at the other side. 

ILLYA 

I think it'd be too much to expect you to have a back up plan. 

NAPOLEON 

( shrugs )

Sometimes it's better to improvise. Fräulein?

THE ROOF ACROSS THE WAY 

Gaby lies tucked into the scope of a rifle, her legs kicked up behind her sway with each momentum of breath. 

GABY 

Seven inside, four outside. 

ABANDONED LOT 

Napoleon's hands float at his sides, the men opposite of them growing eager and restless. Their feet scuffle coarsely against the floor. The door opens again to allow Barbosa through. 

NAPOLEON 

Feel free to step in at any time 

ILLYA 

( growls, looking up from his binds )

Or you could do something other than stand there.

NAPOLEON 

( half turns )

If this is your way of asking for help, I'm not impressed. But, I was referring to Gaby.

Illya sneers, a ripple of movement travels up his arms, the ropes screaming taut. Glass tinkers to the ground as a bullet ricochets into the concrete floor between the two agents and Barbosa's men. They spook like a band of rats. 

NAPOLEON 

When's the last time a simple chair put a stop to the Red Peril? 

The wood chair beneath Illya SPLINTERS, scattering as he rises. His hand hooked to the back of the chair, swings outward at the closest guard as Napoleon kindly bows out of the way. He skips two steps to catch a skidding pistol under his foot, bending to scoop it up and turn to shoot at the nearest motion across the room. 

THE ROOF ACROSS THE WAY 

GUNFIRE ripples out across the street, lighting up the broken string of windows. Gaby hunches down into her scope again, scanning for the scuffle of Illya's feet as he throws a man across the room. A yell echoes into the night, recoiling her from her position into hiding. 

NAPOLEON 

( over the radio )

Can you get to the car, Gaby? 

Gaby's eyes dart across the sky, listening through the commotion blooming behind her. She turns sharply onto her shoulder, peeking back out in time for a gunshot to fire over her head. She shrinks back down with a breath held up in her chest. 

GABY 

It'll be a minute. 

Illya's feet rattle an old fire escape, followed by the heated shuffle of Napoleons as they scale downwards as quickly as possible. Another bullet ricochets off the structure, singing the two agents into a shuffled dance. Napoleon twists to fire two rounds into an open window, spinnning to find Illya clambering into a lower level. 

Gaby pulls the car up half a block away, the nose of the vehicle just shy out of the alleyway. Her nose kisses the radio, fingers flexed tightly around it as she scans each angle for a sign of them. 

GABY 

( tense )

Where are you? 

NAPOLEON (o.s)

( under gunfire )

It might take us just a minute. 

ILLYA (o.s)

This way, Cowboy!! 

GABY 

You don't really have one. 

The radio cuts out, slicing the air with silence. A huff fills Gaby's lungs as she turns to watch parts of the warehouse light up. Her fingers tap impatiently along the steering wheel. A beat passes and she crumbles, turning the car out into the street. 

Napoleon and Illya soar through the level of the warehouse, shoes skidding across old dusty linoleum as they turn a rough corner. Yells echo after them, drawing Napoleon's head back to aim at the first head that emerges around the corner. The gun gives a hollow CLICK. It's empty. 

Illya's hand hooks Napoleon's arm, dragging him through the nearest door as the other man takes aim. The two collide into the bumper of Gaby's car, feet tripping over one another as they steady out long enough to fling themselves into her back seat. Gaby angles them a look through the rear view mirror, shooting the car backward through the alleyway as two men tumble into the street. Illya's arm lifts to shoot three gaping holes through the windshield, arm angling his turn in time as Gaby turns the car around the corner. 

Napoleon is crumpled into his side of the backseat, hair delicately rattled from its precise combing. Illya falls back beside him looking no better as he catches the last of his breath. 

RIO, BRAZIL 

Gaby strolls in to yet another decadent hotel suite. Her entrance is noted by Napoleon, fixed by the window with half a glass of brandy. Illya seated at the coffee table biding his time with a travel chess set spares her a glance with his chin tucked into one hand. 

NAPOLEON 

What's the news? 

GABY 

( removing her sunglasses )

The drop was a success. They'll be looking into Herzenritter's associates.

Napoleon's lips purse, neutral to the fact. He raises his glass a hitch into the air. 

NAPOLEON 

Well, I say here's to another successful mission. Gaby you were proficient as always, and Peril...well, you're the worst secret lover I've ever had. 

ILLYA 

( glowers at him )

Next time, you get kidnapped. 

NAPOLEON 

( smiles )

But you suffered it so well. 

Gaby sighs, fixing herself a drink amidst their bickering. 

GABY 

How about no one gets kidnapped. 

ILLYA 

What did Waverly say for us? 

Her answer isn't immediate, she weighs in for a pause while she mixes her drink. She turn to lean against the bar. 

GABY 

Actually, we're due to report in to the new U.N.C.L.E headquarters.

Between the two of them, Illya looks bewildered and Napoleon slightly bereft. 

ILLYA 

Headquarters? 

NAPOLEON 

( sighs )

This is getting to be much. 

ILLYA 

Where? 

Gaby smiles. 

GABY 

New York.




**Author's Note:**

> The beginning of a potential series transcribed from a private MFU roleplay. The screenwriting format has been softened so that it is more digestible to read without all that technical mumbo jumbo. I didn't really hit the groove of it until the 3rd chapter, subsequent edits to follow. 
> 
> Thank you for the support so far and keep an eye out for the next affair! Please sub to the Del Floria Series for more!
> 
> As far as historical accuracy/translations/etc, best attempts have been made to preserve integrity of the setting. Of course, some allowances are made here and there for the sake of storytelling/interest. 
> 
> If there are any super glaring errors that are just plain silly, feel free to call me out!!


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